


stronger here together

by CrypticVirago



Series: heart made of glass (mind of stone) [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Connor is best big bro, M/M, Nines cares about his partner, Nines gets shot and Gavin doesn't like it, is it time for cute shit?, it's also time for some sad shit, progress - Freeform, yeah kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:16:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticVirago/pseuds/CrypticVirago
Summary: Most of his body was made of replaceable parts, so in the instance of being damaged, Nines didn't have to worry much. Humans, on the other hand, were incredibly vulnerable. With a projected survivability of 27%, there was no way he was going to allow Gavin to be shot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is one that I was super excited for. And hey, this is dedicated to liquidbutterflies, bookcatterpillar, and Darkshield. Your comments really made my day :D

_But luck will leave you cause it is a faithless friend_

_And in the end when life has got you down_

_You've got someone here that you can wrap your arms around_

 

* * *

 

The first time Nines had gotten shot, it had happened for a perfectly understandable reason. With a few exceptions, most of his body was composed of replaceable parts, so in the instance of being damaged, Nines didn’t have to worry about a recovery time like Officer Person had. As long as android-ran Cyberlife repair centers existed, there was little that he had to concern himself with, as long as he didn’t get shot in the head or the thirium pump.

Nines was unlike humans in that regard. Humans were incredibly vulnerable. Not every organ could be removed and replaced as easily as a battery within a remote. So it made sense that the survivability of an android getting shot was much higher than a humans. It was the most logical option, of course. In the instance that a human was in danger of being shot, it was reasonable that Nines would prevent this from happening using any means available. And if this meant allowing himself to be shot instead, then so be it.

So that’s exactly what he did. With a projected survivability of 27%, there was no way he was going to allow Gavin to be shot. The bullet dug into his chest, immediately tearing a hole through the plastic casing and into the wires beneath, thirium soaking into the dark cloth of his uniform. It was damage that would need attention before he lost too much thirium to continue operating, but it was damage that was easy to ignore for the moment. Until the suspect was subdued, arrested, and placed into the back of the police cruiser that came with their backup.

Gavin had been uninjured, save for a bloody nose that, thankfully, was not broken when Nines scanned for it. His heart was beating rapidly, his breathing uneven. Thirium was smeared across the right side of his face and neck. Nines had come to an easy conclusion – he was near shock, as a result of his brush with death. Nines supposed that it was reasonable, since he had been staring down the barrel of a gun minutes prior.

Nines spoke with their backup – Jacobs and Mallow, two patrol officers from a different precinct. Mallow was older, two years older than Hank, and Nines had a suspicion that he was longing for retirement, while Jacobs was the same age as their own Chris Miller. Nines thanks the both of them for their assistance at the scene, and after he calls Central to inform them of the incoming suspect, they leave with him in the back of their patrol car.

The bullet was still imbedded into his wiring, and when he presses his hand against his own chest, his fingers come away blue. The bullet needs to be removed before it causes any further damage, but for now, it would have to remain as it was. He unbuttons his shirt far enough to be able to inspect the bullet wound. The damage wasn’t extensive. Once the bullet is removed, standard sealant would be able to fix the leak and provide a temporary cap over the entry wound. All of this, of course, could be completed with the repair kit that he had in his desk back at the station. The only thing he had to worry about was keeping the sealant covered so it could harden entirely, in order to better replicate the copolymer casing beneath his skin. He was going to be fine, as long as the wound wasn’t agitated and opened further. The thirium leak was well maintained.

When he finds his way back to his partner, Gavin is back at his car, which they had abandoned at the edge of the lot when they had located their suspect. The detective is sitting on the hood with a cigarette in his shaking hands, knuckles scuffed and face still bloody. He’s barely tried to clean his face of both his and Nines’ blood.

“Detective?” Nines calls, shrugging on the sleeve of his uniform’s coat. It was better, he thinks, to have something over his thirium-soaked shirt. “Are you feeling alright?” It isn’t necessary to ask, considering Nines can scan his partner and asses his physical state. His heartrate is still abnormally high, but Nines would say that he doesn’t think he’ll fall into shock. That, itself, was a relief.

Gavin doesn’t answer him straight away. He inhales his cigarette, blowing smoke out with heavy, quick exhales. “What the fuck was that shit?” the detective snaps, and his voice is rough.

“I’m sorry?” Nines questions, not quite understanding what his partner is referring to.

“You don’t need to protect me!” he barks. “I can fuckin’ take care of myself, you goddamn plastic prick.” He pauses to take another drag of his cigarette, and then he returns with more words. “I don’t need you to be a bullet proof vest, damn it.”

“You… only had a 27% chance of survival,” Nines explains. His partner drops the butt of the cigarette over the edge of his hood, and then he pulls himself off the hood of the car, coming to stand in front of Nines.

“So, what, that makes it fucking _okay_ then?” Gavin responds, frustration and anger on full display as he grips the lapels of Nines’ coat. “It’s not fuckin’ okay! No where even close! I’m not going to have another fuckin’ partner of mine get himself fucking _killed_ because he was some self-sacrificial little shit!”

 _Another_.

“I couldn’t risk your survival by allowing you to get shot. Medical attention wouldn’t have arrived in time. The chance that you would have died was too high,” Nines maintained. _Another_. Nines made a note to look into this later. The detective was shaking, but Nines couldn’t tell if it was due to anger or because of something else.

“It doesn’t _matter_ , you fuckin’ –” His partner has begun hyperventilating. He can hardly maintain his argument and his anger due to the fact that he can’t catch his breath. Gavin’s grip on his coat becomes weak and his arms begin to drop, but Nines reaches up to take him by the wrists.

“Detective,” Nines says softly. “You’re panicking. You’ll be okay, you just need to calm your breathing.” Nines adjusts his grip on Gavin’s wrists to take his hands, holding them in between his own. “Pace your breathing. Inhale slowly.” He waits until Gavin actually begins to follow his instructions before he continues. The detective has lowered his head until his forehead is pressed against Nines’ chest, his shoulders trembling violently. “Inhale slowly, hold your breath. Exhale. There you go. Hold my hand. You’re going to be fine.”

It takes some minutes for the detective to recover, and he’s still shaky and pale when he begins to breathe normally again. He shoves Nines away, but he doesn’t angry so much as he looks embarrassed. “Don’t ever do that shit again,” Gavin says quietly, and he leaves.

“I’m sorry, detective,” Nines responds. “I am glad that you weren’t harmed, however.”

“Just… get in the fuckin’ car,” Gavin grumbles, and wastes no time slipping into the driver seat.

They ride back to the station in complete silence. Once they arrive, Gavin goes to give their suspect the warm, central station greeting. Nines would have joined him, but he’s intercepted by Connor before he is able to cross the bullpen.

“Nines,” Connor greets, worry painted on his face. “You’ve been injured.” Without much care for privacy, he pulls at Nines’ shirt buttons in order to assess the bullet wound. Nines has to physically restrain his predecessor in order to keep the RK800 from stripping him in the bullpen.

“The damage isn’t severe,” Nines assures. “I can easily fix it.”

“You’re covered in thirium…”

“It looks much worse than it is.”

Connor demanded that he assist Nines in the removal of the bullet, and though it wasn’t necessary – because Nines was more than capable of doing it himself – he had long since learned to not argue with his predecessor. The RK800 was stubborn and was even more persistent, something that both Nines and Hank had found issue with.

It ended up with the both of them in the bathroom, Nines sitting on the counter while Connor dug into his chest with a pair of needle nose pliers. Had neither of them been androids, this would have been a sickening sight to walk in on. “So, how’d it go? Aside from getting shot, of course.”

“It went well, all things considered,” Nines responds, and it was awkwardly casual, considering the amount of blue blood coating his front. “The suspect had attempted to run, and once we caught up to him, he pulled a gun on us.”

“Detective Reed was uninjured, I take it,” Connor guesses. “Though he is certainly not pleased about something.”

“Ah, yes… that may have been my fault,” Nines admits, a bit abashed. Rather than tell his predecessor verbally, he shows him instead, purposefully omitting the panic attack that the detective fell into after his outburst. The data transfer takes only a second, and then Connor is looking as confused as Nines feels.

“He’s upset because… you saved his life?” Connor questions, to which Nines nods.

“He also mentioned that… he didn’t want _another_ partner getting killed due to self-sacrifice.”

“Have you not reviewed his file? I would have thought that you would have, as his partner.”

“I didn’t ever pursue it, purely because I wanted to respect his privacy.” Connor pulls the bullet from his chest, and then it’s only a matter of applying sealant. “Now I’m… concerned for his wellbeing. I’m beginning to think that he has… unresolved issues.”

“Unresolved issues could be the title of Detective Reed’s autobiography,” Connor jests, beginning to apply sealant. “But in all seriousness, the lieutenant had issues with me being his partner as well. Though he was nowhere near as aggressive as Detective Reed, I soon learned that his aversion to androids was due to his own unresolved problems.”

“That being his son,” Nines says quietly, aware of how sensitive the topic remains to the lieutenant.

Connor nods. “It was a process for the two of us to become as close as we are now,” Connor continues. “Much of our bonding was during the revolution, and it was largely Hanks influence that caused me to deviate.”

“You… did something similar,” Nines begins. “In Stratford Tower.”

Connor nods, and the look on his face tells Nines that it isn’t a memory he’s fond of recalling. “Hank was upset with me, but I was replaceable, and I knew very well that Hank wasn’t.”

“…would you do it again?” Nines asks.

“For Hank? Of course I would. Could you say the same?”

“Without question,” Nines responds immediately. “I wouldn’t allow Gavin to get hurt. Not when I’m easily repairable.”

And then the bathroom door opens, and in steps the detective in mention. He looks… angry, and it immediately makes Nines worried that he’s in for more reprimanding. Connor, predictably, is not phased. “Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor says cheerfully, and flashes the man a bright smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not here for you,” Reed dismisses, keeping angry eyes on Nines.

“I can handle it from here, Connor,” Nines says. “Thank you for your assistance.” Connor understands his meaning and quickly leaves, but the glance he shares with Gavin upon passing him to get to the door speaks volumes. It was endearing how protective Connor was of him. Though it wasn’t at all necessary, since he was more than capable of taking care of himself, it was still a touching sentiment.

Even once Connor leaves, there is a considerable length of time where neither of them say anything. Nines pulls himself off the counter before beginning to adhere a transparent film over the sealant so it can be allowed to dry without external influence. It’s only once he has finished this does Gavin speak to him, something Nines had been waiting for since his partner entered the bathroom.

“So you’re…” Gavin clears his throat. “You’re okay, then.”

“Of course I am. The damage was easily fixed with a sealant.” He looks at his partner in the mirror. The man is shifting in place, and he looks uncomfortable. “It looks much worse than it is,” he adds, once his partner looks to the thirium on his front. “I promise.”

Gavin only nods, looking down at his feet as he shifts them once more, taking a single step closer towards Nines.

“Detective… if you don’t mind me asking,” Nines begins slowly. “You mentioned something about having a previous partner. Would it be overstepping my bounds if I were to ask…?” The look on Gavin’s face makes Nines realize that yes, maybe it is. He has the same vulnerability on his face that Nines had seen earlier, the same kind that Gavin would never dare to display in front of anyone else and seemed embarrassed enough to show in front of Nines. Nines turns to face his partner rather than continue looking at him through the mirror. “You don’t have to tell me. I just… Connor speaks with Hank about his problems. It’s helps the lieutenant work through his issues. I know we don’t have the same kind of relationship, but I would hope that…” Nines isn’t sure what he hopes. Yes, there’s his pipe dream that he and Gavin could become friends, like Connor and Hank now have. His predecessor had shared his memories of his time spent working with Hank during the revolution; Nines had seen the initial animosity and terse relations between the two. They were able to become _friends_ , and now, they were closer than they were at the end of the revolution. When Nines had met Detective Reed, Nines had attempted to remain optimistic, but had never anticipated anything like Hank and Connor had.

“Why does it matter to you so much?” Gavin asks, but he doesn’t sound angry, but curious.

“Because I care about you, detective,” Nines mutters, and quirks a smile. “We may never be ‘friends’, per say, but you are my partner.”

Gavin looks put-off by the genuinely expressed emotions – something that Nines knows the detective is not well suited to. As Hank had stated, Detective Reed was ‘emotionally constipated’, and it would take a miracle to work through that.

With his partner looking at him with his mind nearly at a stand-still, Nines continues cleaning the thirium off his front. His shirt is soaked, his pants are ruined – he’ll have to replace his whole uniform. It was genuinely relieving to get himself cleaned up. In that time, Gavin comes up beside him, and suddenly, he has the detective’s arms locked around his stomach, cheek resting against his shoulder. It stuns him into stock stillness, and though he can’t see his partners face, Nines can detect his rapid heartrate.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Gavin whisper, so quietly that Nines may not have heard it if he wasn’t an android. Nines doesn’t say anything in response, but he does rest his hand against the detective’s tense forearm. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

It’s quiet, but it’s delivered with genuine emotion, unlike Nines has ever heard before. It’s incredibly surprising, and a long silence stretches on after Gavin speaks. Nines can only stare at his own expression, at his yellow LED, at the translucent bandage over the sealant. At where his hand is gripping his partner’s forearm.

There’s thirteen seconds of this. Of this silence, of this genuine, non-violent contact. Nines doesn’t know how to react to it aside from standing there and not making it weirder, by not ruining it by saying something wrong. Thirteen seconds, and then Gavin is pulling away, swiping at his nose and sniffling. If Nines notices his red-rimmed eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t you fuckin’ _dare_ tell anyone about this,” Gavin growls, and now he sounds much more like his usual self. “Especially your damn carbon-copy.”

Nines tries to fight back a smile. “I would never dare, Detective Reed.” Gavin looks up at him, but it doesn’t seem that he’s able to maintain eye contact with the RK900. He jerkily looks away, nods, and then turns to leave.

“Nines?” Gavin says, his hand on the handle to the door. “I don’t… hate you. You know that, right?”

“I know, detective,” Nines responds softly, and it’s with that that Gavin leaves the restroom. Nines meets his own reflection’s gaze in the mirror and smiles. Even though it’s still the same, weird-looking smile that Hank thinks is unnerving, Nines is uncharacteristically happy. They weren’t friends. Not yet. But they’d get there, just like Hank and Connor.

Nines is hardly able to keep himself from smiling for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin may have freaked out a little bit yesterday, but hey, who could really blame him? Thinking that you were going to get shot, and then watching your partner get shot, is kind of scary. 
> 
> Gavin knows he's shit when it comes to feelings and all that fluffy crap, but his damn tin can of a partner doesn't think they're friends, and he wants to set that straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter! Wow! I wanted to give everyone a chance to see Gavin's thoughts regarding his partner at this point, especially after the events of last chapter. Splitting it into a separate part didn't seem right. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone that's commented, left kudos and read up until this point. It really means a lot to me.
> 
> Italics is Gavin. Bold is Nines.

_So hold on to me tight_

_Hold on, I promise it'll be alright_

_Cause we are stronger here together_

_Then we could ever be apart_

 

* * *

 

 

Spending his entire weekend internally freaking out about what had happened between them was _not_ something that Gavin wanted to do. Regardless of his hopes, Saturday, February 5 th became marked as the day where Gavin woke up early on a weekend purely because his overthinking wouldn’t let him sleep. In Gavin’s humble opinion, any time before ten was an indecent time to be up on a weekend, and anything before eleven was still pushing it. With as many hours as he spent lying awake entirely due to the fact that he couldn’t stop fucking thinking, Gavin felt that sleeping in was something he deserved.

But nope. On a Saturday he was up at 08:26, wide fucking awake, and his back and shoulders ached for no other reason than to spite him. He tries to go back to sleep, but he knew from experience that trying didn’t do much. So he gets up, he makes coffee, and while he’s drinking it, his mind drifts, right to a subject he wanted to avoid. Simply because coffee somehow wasn’t as satisfying when it wasn’t made by his partner.

And _fuck_ , that just makes him think about yesterday. About Nines getting shot saving his dumb ass, about the legit fucking panic attack that he had over it, everything that happened in the restroom –

Fuck.

_Because I care about you, detective._

And that was what didn’t make any fucking sense.

Gavin was a bitter prick. Everybody knew that. He had a shitty attitude, hated androids, and constantly had a stick up his ass about everything. It was why nobody gave a shit about him, why people complained about his behavior, why his fuckin’ disciplinary file looked almost like a damn phone book. He had issues, more issues than fuckin’ Reader’s Digest, and most of them just chalked up to him being an unlikable asshole.

It’s his own damn fault. It’s easy for him to push people away. Other people were shitty and unpredictable. You could never tell what the fuck they were thinking, could never tell if they were being honest or if they were just shitting through their teeth to get dirt on you. There weren’t decent people in the world. Everybody was shitty in their own way, everyone was an asshole somehow. He’d been crossed one too many times to rely on anybody but himself.

Maybe that shit stems from unresolved trauma from his childhood. Well, that’s what his last therapist said, and geez, that had been, what, 15 years ago? They’d summed up his life in a series of a couple lines on some judgmental bitch’s notepad, someone who _thought_ they could know him, thought they could understand exactly where he was coming from.

The only thing he was good at was his job. He was good at finding murderers and drug dealers, plowing his way through breadcrumbs to find his next lead. His job was the only thing that he had. He’d never been good with people. He’d never cared to know his dad, never wanted to know his mother. At school he had average grades, spotty attendance. There were one too many parent-teacher conferences because his behavior was ‘disruptive in an academic setting’.

He’d never been any fuckin’ thing. The only thing he was good at was being a detective.

At least Nines appreciated that.

_I think you’re an extraordinary detective, and in some sense, I count myself lucky to be your partner._

Nines thought he was “an extraordinary detective”.

Nobody had ever told him that.

It was so fucking confusing. Gavin was an asshole. An asshole that hated androids and hated the idea of having a partner, hated the idea of having Connor’s _lookalike_ as his partner nonetheless, and he’d made that abundantly clear. The first week of their partnership, Gavin had been spiteful and venomous, had used every damn insult in the book within that time, did everything he fucking could to get this stupid hunk of metal off his damn back.

And then Nines had threatened his job.

_Need I remind you that your employment status with the DPD is riding upon your cooperation with me?_

Gavin didn’t care if Nines threatened him with physical violence, and Gavin had already heard all the bullshit anyone could have said to him. But threaten his job? His job was all he fucking had. He’d put up with an annoying tin can’s bullshit if it meant keeping his job. Maybe that’s what it had taken for Gavin to start changing a little bit. He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but after some point, Nines’ presence wasn’t as annoying as it had been previously. And then Nines started being _unbearably_ nice to him.

_Are you alright? You look… sad._

_I ask because I care about you, Detective Reed._

_We may never be ‘friends’, per say, but you are my partner._

_There you go. Hold my hand. You’re going to be fine._

All of this… it fuckin’ _hurt_ , and damn Gavin doesn’t know why.

_I want to be able to understand you._

Maybe that was why. Maybe it was because the RK900 was so persistent in his attempt to try and _know_ him. And it didn’t feel the same as that weird psychiatrist, who wanted him to talk about himself so they could diagnose what the fuck was wrong in his damn head. It was different. It was Nines wanting to know him because they were partners, because he _wanted_ to be friends, because he cared about Gavin.

And fuck. This damn tin can didn’t think they were friends.

Hell, were they?

…

Yeah, Gavin supposes they were something like that.

Gavin’s never really cared about contacting Nines in any way, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have his number. It had been one of those ‘just in case’ things that he put in his phone, if he needed to get ahold of Nines pronto. It takes him a good hour to actually build up the courage to actually send a text at all, and even then, he had to sit there for a good ten minutes, typing, erasing and retyping, trying to figure out what the fuck to say.

**10:18**

_**> >**hey tin can_

The reply comes much faster than Gavin could have predicted.

 **> >** **Detective Reed. Good morning.**

A very simple reply. And fuck, he read that shit in Nines’ voice, because he’s heard him say those words so many times.

_**> >**im sorry about yesterday_

_**> >**im shit at… stuff_

‘Stuff’ was one fucking way to describe it, he guesses.

**> >It’s nothing to worry yourself over, Detective. There isn’t anything that you need to apologize for.**

**_> >_ ** _still im sorry. i shouldnt have freaked out like i did. i shouldnt have yelled at you_

**> >Detective Reed, you do not need to be sorry. You were distraught and it’s understandable. You were almost shot, and had to watch your partner get shot. And I understand it’s a sensitive topic, but considering your prior experience with partners and dangerous situations, I’m more concerned about you.**

_Concerned about me?_ Gavin thinks, and has to reread the text several times as though he can’t believe what he’s reading.

_**> >**your fucking weird_

**> >you’re***

_**> >**go fuck you’re self_

**> >Now you’re just doing it on purpose.**

Gavin finds himself smiling at that. It was… fun to fuck with Nines. Sometimes he made it so incredibly easy, but it was even more fun whenever they got into these kinds of arguments. Harmless fun. And it was nice. Nice to have somebody to do that with. He doesn’t get the chance to respond before he receives another text.

**> >You’ve never contacted me outside of work before. Is something wrong?**

_**> >**no I was just thinking_

**> >Penny for your thoughts.**

_**> >**you should know I charge, like, a quarter at least_

**> >I’ll take one from Connor.**

That actually gets a real laugh out of Gavin. He’d bore witness to Hank stealing Connor’s coin a few times, purely because the noise pisses him off, and it was funny to see the little hurt expression on Connor’s face. He could only imagine if Connor’s entire stash (because Gavin knows he’s got to have one) disappeared because Nines took it.

_**> >**about yesterday. About what you said about the whole friends thing_

He doesn’t give Nines a chance to reply before he sends more texts.

_> >you are my friend_

_> >like not my best friend_

_> >cuz chens got that spot_

_> >but you are my friend_

There are literal fucking knots in his stomach as he waits and waits for a reply.

**> >I’m glad that you hold me in that regard, Detective Reed. **

And then a moment later.

**> >I’m happy to be your friend.**

Gavin can immediately imagine that stupid, derpy smile on Nines’ stupid, derpy face. And it makes him smile too.

_> >are you finally gonna stop wearing that dumb uniform now that its fucked up?_

**> >I could easily get a new one. **

>> _yea but its a uniform for a patrol officer. You’re a detective_

**> >Would you rather I wear civilian clothes instead of the uniform?**

Fuck. Did he? Nines looked good in a uniform. He did. There was a weird divide between his love of tradition and his curiosity regarding what kind of shit Nines would wear otherwise. God, he hoped he wasn’t like Hank. He would fuckin’ personally dry-clean that damn uniform if he came in with one of those dumb, disgustingly colored shirts, then he’d take that button-up and burn it himself in the parking lot.

 **_> >_ ** _it would definitely make you look like less of a dickhead_

**> >Nice to know you thought I looked like a dickhead.**

**_> >_ ** _you always look like a dickhead. The uniform just makes it worse_

**> >Dually noted. **

And on Monday, Gavin would seriously deny that he was kind of excited. But he did realize that Nines didn’t just look good in a uniform. He looked good in every damn thing. And fuck, Gavin never thought any damn body could look good in a stupid fucking turtleneck.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from "Hold On" by Michael Bublé.


End file.
